“Yes. Mr. Fisselthwaite---the one who brings the milk, you know---has promised to take these children in. He and the missus have that farm. Just the ticket for growing children. Put some bloom in those white cheeks!”
The chuckling and the tittering and the wriggling ceased. Suddenly the house became utterly, utterly still.
Miss Price looked back at Miss Price.
The children looked back at Miss Price.
Mrs. Hobday frowned. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I thought you’d be pleased. You told me yourself you were much too busy. You had no time to take care of children.”
Miss Price put her hand to her throat. Miss Price, who had such poise and was never at a loss for words, seemed not to know what to say. “Ah…circumstances have changed somewhat,” she managed at last.
“That’s right!” Paul put in brightly. “We got a dad now! Mr. Browne!”
“Paul!” cried Miss Price.
The news delighted Mrs. Hobday. “Miss Price! Is this true?”
Carrie got up and came to take Miss Price by the hand. “Of course it’s true,” she said, in her soft way. “You do want him to stay with us, don’t you, Miss Price?”
Miss Price looked at Emelius, who tried to look someplace else entirely.
“I suppose I hadn’t thought about it,” said Miss Price.
Charlie knew Mr. Browne’s ideas on the subject. “What about him?” asked Charlie. “What do you say about it, Mr. Browne?”
Emelius pulled at his tie. “Words fail me,” he confessed. “It’s all rather sudden.”
Silence descended upon them all, and good Mrs. Hobday sensed the enthusiasm might be premature. “I’ll leave you to talk it over,” she said tactfully. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”
Miss Price didn’t answer her.
“Good night,” said Mrs. Hobday, and she went out, closing the door gently behind her.
“It’s true, isn’t it, Mr. Browne?” asked Paul. “You are going to be our father---aren’t you?”
Emelius folded his napkin, then unfolded it again. “We are rather rushing, aren’t we?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” said Miss Price, “Mr. Browne has other things besides you children to consider.”
“Yes. Oh, yes!” Emelius felt a surge of gratitude toward her. He got up and began to bustle about. “I should have left long ago. I ought to be getting a train back to London tonight. Rather, it is important engagement. I want to tell you about it, but it’s most secret.”
Emelius had taken off his apron and was looking around for his hat. “If I’ve been of any help, I’m…I’m…pleased.”
It was a weak expression, but Miss Price was very gracious. “You’ve been immensely kind,” she said. “Thank you.”
Emelius shrugged into his coat. “I’ve enjoyed being with you.”
“Perhaps it’s been good for all of us,” said Miss Price. “Will you be coming back?”
Emelius summoned up his usual cocky smile and took Miss Price’s hands in his. “Someday, my dear, I certainly hope we will meet again---someday when all this war business is over.”
“I see…” said Miss Price.
“Perhaps then I shall realize my fondest dream,” said Emelius. “ ‘Eglantine and Emelius. Illusionists Extraordinary.’ Think how that will look on the posters, eh?”
Miss Price recalled the picture of the long-legged Mlle Franceska in her tights. Miss Price wondered how she would look in tights. Miss Price thought that perhaps she would look rather well. “The children will miss you,” she told Emelius.
“You think they will?”
“Yes.”
“And I shall miss you,” said Emelius. “All of you. And…and if I don’t go now, you might never get rid of me.”
He kissed Carrie on the cheek.
“Mr. Browne, must you go?” She was almost in tears.
“I think this is best for everyone.” He shook hands with Paul in a gentlemanly manner.
“Want me to come down to the station with you?” offered Charlie.
“No, thank you,” said Emelius.
He kissed Miss Price’s hand. “Goodbye, Miss Price.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Browne.”
Then he was gone.
Carrie washed the dishes that night, and Charlie dried them without being asked. Miss Price put things away. She was still at it when the children went quickly up to bed.
Cosmic Creepers came into the kitchen and curled up next to the stove.
“I am a most fortunate woman,” Miss Price told the cat.
Cosmic Creepus blinked his somber eyes.
“I have my own home,” said Miss Price, “my work, my own life to live as I please. No one to fuss over. No one to worry me. No silly man to humor or pamper. Yes, it has all turned out very well. No one will ever call me his ball and chain!”
The cat closed his eyes.
“Very well indeed,” said Miss Price firmly. “Nobody else’s problems for me!”
Cosmic Creepus tucked his front paws under him and uttered an almost purr sound.
“Well, you needn’t be quite that agreeable!” snapped Miss Price. She picked up the startled cat and made for the door to put him out.
When Miss Price opened her door, someone was standing in her garden—a man in a dashing uniform with a lot of gold braid.
“Good evening, Fräulein!” said the stranger.
Информация по комментариям в разработке